Read Online Hunger and Thirst by Wayne Wightman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Wayne Wightman
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thin.
....
In their bedroom, in the middle of the night, they lay close, on their sides, their foreheads touching. Without opening his eyes, Jack whispered, “Did you kill Hewitt, a big guy in a plaid shirt, out by the highway?”
“No, I didn't.”
“I found his shirt. I'm pretty sure it was his shirt. It had blood around the collar.”
Natalie said nothing.
“Did you kill those two people, the man and the whatever?”
“No. I did what you wanted to do. I sent them in opposite directions with dire threats. It would have been safer to kill them.”
....
In their bedroom, past the middle of the night, Natalie lay spooned against Jack, her arm around his chest.
“You don't believe me, do you.”
In the darkness, Jack stared at nothing.
“Of course I do.”
....
Bright white morning sun poured through their windows. Jack stood idly at the counter watching Natalie with her bones and leather disk.
“I hope I can get you more coffee. I know how much you like it.”
“Don't trade too much for it. I can do without.”
Natalie dropped the bones on the disk and stared at them, motionless. Her face tightened; she looked troubled.
“What?”
“Just calculating. A woman, coming along in about half an hour.”
“A woman traveling alone. That's not everyday. She's either competent or crazy.”
“I don't need my bones to tell me which. I'll go talk to her.”
Jack noticed that she put the finger bones in her pocket. That was unusual.
“Well.” Natalie put a few canned goods in a mesh bag. “Just in case. I'll go see what I see.”
He kissed her and repeated his standard caution. At the instant the door latched between them, Jack realized that just an instant before he had glimpsed one of her hunting knives in the mesh bag. He hadn't seen her put it there, but that didn't mean anything. Natalie could have things in her hands, or out of her hands, in the middle of an eyeblink.
He circled the room once, drained the coffee down his throat and got his jacket. Things had been just two degrees off all morning; he wanted to see what she was going to see.
Out the front door, he automatically checked that the 8:00 PM food he put out for Artie was gone. It was. Natalie was already out of sight, around the hill and on the down-slope to the highway.
Twenty yards from the house, behind a large stone and a cluster of green tumbleweeds, he saw Natalie's mesh bag. Without touching it, he craned his neck to see the backside of it. The canned foods were still there, but the hunting knife was not.
He half-heartedly tried to disguise his off-trail footprints and continued on after her. He brought himself to a sudden stop. In the distance, on the highway, he saw the traveler coming from the west. Whoever it was was walking aimlessly, and her clothes seemed to be layers of long streaming rags.
A few steps further on and he could see Natalie, now at the highway, waiting, now slowly walking toward the traveler.
Within another half minute, Jack saw who it was — the blond woman that he had taken out and threatened away a few days before. She had returned. And she wasn't walking so much as shambling. Stooped a little forward at the waist, she let her arms hang among her hair and rags and shambled forward, toward Natalie.
Jack could see the moment of recognition: the young blond woman stopped in her tracks. Then she seemed to gather her focus and her strength. She raised her wraith-like arms and did a staggering run toward Natalie. Jack heard her shrieking noises, but didn't understand her words, if there were words.
Natalie waited quietly on the path beside the highway.
He heard himself saying, “Don't do it... don't....”
The woman began windmilling her arms, closer to Natalie, and now there was just screaming. When Jack expected to see the women fall together, he instead saw Natalie simply push woman on past her. She almost fell, turned and screamed, just animal noises. Out of her rags and hair, she held up her
....
In their bedroom, in the middle of the night, they lay close, on their sides, their foreheads touching. Without opening his eyes, Jack whispered, “Did you kill Hewitt, a big guy in a plaid shirt, out by the highway?”
“No, I didn't.”
“I found his shirt. I'm pretty sure it was his shirt. It had blood around the collar.”
Natalie said nothing.
“Did you kill those two people, the man and the whatever?”
“No. I did what you wanted to do. I sent them in opposite directions with dire threats. It would have been safer to kill them.”
....
In their bedroom, past the middle of the night, Natalie lay spooned against Jack, her arm around his chest.
“You don't believe me, do you.”
In the darkness, Jack stared at nothing.
“Of course I do.”
....
Bright white morning sun poured through their windows. Jack stood idly at the counter watching Natalie with her bones and leather disk.
“I hope I can get you more coffee. I know how much you like it.”
“Don't trade too much for it. I can do without.”
Natalie dropped the bones on the disk and stared at them, motionless. Her face tightened; she looked troubled.
“What?”
“Just calculating. A woman, coming along in about half an hour.”
“A woman traveling alone. That's not everyday. She's either competent or crazy.”
“I don't need my bones to tell me which. I'll go talk to her.”
Jack noticed that she put the finger bones in her pocket. That was unusual.
“Well.” Natalie put a few canned goods in a mesh bag. “Just in case. I'll go see what I see.”
He kissed her and repeated his standard caution. At the instant the door latched between them, Jack realized that just an instant before he had glimpsed one of her hunting knives in the mesh bag. He hadn't seen her put it there, but that didn't mean anything. Natalie could have things in her hands, or out of her hands, in the middle of an eyeblink.
He circled the room once, drained the coffee down his throat and got his jacket. Things had been just two degrees off all morning; he wanted to see what she was going to see.
Out the front door, he automatically checked that the 8:00 PM food he put out for Artie was gone. It was. Natalie was already out of sight, around the hill and on the down-slope to the highway.
Twenty yards from the house, behind a large stone and a cluster of green tumbleweeds, he saw Natalie's mesh bag. Without touching it, he craned his neck to see the backside of it. The canned foods were still there, but the hunting knife was not.
He half-heartedly tried to disguise his off-trail footprints and continued on after her. He brought himself to a sudden stop. In the distance, on the highway, he saw the traveler coming from the west. Whoever it was was walking aimlessly, and her clothes seemed to be layers of long streaming rags.
A few steps further on and he could see Natalie, now at the highway, waiting, now slowly walking toward the traveler.
Within another half minute, Jack saw who it was — the blond woman that he had taken out and threatened away a few days before. She had returned. And she wasn't walking so much as shambling. Stooped a little forward at the waist, she let her arms hang among her hair and rags and shambled forward, toward Natalie.
Jack could see the moment of recognition: the young blond woman stopped in her tracks. Then she seemed to gather her focus and her strength. She raised her wraith-like arms and did a staggering run toward Natalie. Jack heard her shrieking noises, but didn't understand her words, if there were words.
Natalie waited quietly on the path beside the highway.
He heard himself saying, “Don't do it... don't....”
The woman began windmilling her arms, closer to Natalie, and now there was just screaming. When Jack expected to see the women fall together, he instead saw Natalie simply push woman on past her. She almost fell, turned and screamed, just animal noises. Out of her rags and hair, she held up her
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